Poetry is Good for America
Some came by choice and some did not,
their service to our country makes it certain
that someone misses the one who fought
and others just draw the curtain.
We remember the ones who went away
but did not return to those who loved them,
So cherish the ones who won their way
and now are gone without a requiem.
We can try to be fair.
We will grab and hold fast.
We can be the first to care.
We will always be the last.
We will be a shining light.
We can push back on the caring.
We will light a candle in the night.
We can call kindness a red herring.
We can be the change we need.
We will revel in our leisure.
We can try to plant a seed.
We will pay for blood and treasure.
We can be a loving place.
We will cherish your dismay.
We can seek out good and grace.
We will look the other way.
God please don’t blink
you’ll miss my face
before you think
about my disgrace
You turn around
and stare at me
I’m tightly bound
hope to be free
No job, no pay
no place to sleep
I have no way
my soul to keep
It doesn’t pay
my father said
to sass the boss
they’ll see you dead
They dance with the idea
it consumes them wholly
wrought from ancient fear
of what they thought was holy
The rich move them like pawns
and laugh at their red deeds
then a fearsome day soon dawns
and their anger makes us bleed
Lies and hunger and a sense
of loss and falling down
the talking heads talk nonsense
about their stolen crown
They follow blindly and with glee
they chant and curse and sing
they smash and kill and plea
for praise from a would-be king
The center holds for one last stand
the guardians beat back the horde
they will return as they had planned
to commit what some abhorred
Some bolder hand will hold their reins
the broken veil falls from our face
the death’s head move for sordid gains
a triumph of a darker grace
So thus our city on a hill
shining for those with lifted eyes
crumbles into rubble still
just a shambles in disguise
I collect, the withered soul-husk said,
my grievances, peeves, and spleen.
Some people yet live, others are dead,
but my dislikes are evergreen.
Are you never wrong, I asked hollow-eyes
for their mood I could not understand.
It is simple, they said, there is never surprise
for I make up my mind beforehand.
My collection of foes and adversaries
the dark-shadowed speaker opined,
is in lists and logs and cemetaries,
newer members are easy to find.
But what of your friends and relations,
I questioned the hard-hearted shell.
They said that folk’s feeble narrations
contradicted all they knew so so well.
There’s no need to excuse any whinery
from people or even hear them out.
If you have beliefs fully binary,
said the wraith-head, it removes any doubt.
I was going to ask about love,
and sympathy seasoned with trust.
To my horror, their eyes turned above,
and they thereupon fell into dust.